Bright and Early
by shaneastair
Summary: "We really need to work on your definition of a party," said Natasha as Tony marched down the long hallway. "And you need to work on your bedside manner," snapped Tony. "We all have things to work on." High school AU of the adventures of the Avengers. No pairings as of yet but taking suggestions.
1. Shouting in School

The day he transferred, Tony decided to get to school early for the first time in his life. It was a big day for firsts with him. It was his first day to get to school early, first day to walk instead of being driven, and first day to go to a public school. Previously, he had been privately tutored but Howard needed the positive publicity and sending his son to slum it with the peasants was the perfect way. The school was unlocked and Tony easily located his locker. He put his belonging inside and sat down with a book.

Slowly, the halls filled with people, most of whom ignored Tony while he studiously did the same. Several stared at him but only whispered to their friends with all the finesse that teenagers possess about the new kid and one thought he would try his luck with him.

"Out of the way, shorty," said the boy who looked to be about five inches taller and 250 pounds heavier than Tony's slight frame.

Tony rolled his eyes but said nothing, uninterested in the boy.

"I said, move!" yelled the boy, shoving Tony out of the way, throwing his book across the hall for good measure.

"You're joking, right?" said Tony, jumping to his feet and glaring at the boy who towered over him. "What, do you want my lunch money while you're at it? Or wait, did you not think that far ahead? Was that too much for your tiny brain to handle? Because if I'm basing your intelligence off of the brute force and lame name calling-which I am- then I have to assume that you were lost after my initial comment of if you were joking or not."

Tony would have said more, but it seemed the other boy was tired of talking and simply tackled the smaller boy. While he was actually a decent fighter, Tony was far outmatched by the sheer size of the other and could do little more than protect his face and get a precious few punches in as well. But then the boy was gone.

"Pick on someone your own size," said a new voice as Tony scrambled to his feet, ignoring the biting pain of his left ankle where had somehow managed to get stepped on during the scramble.

"What, like you?" said the boy.

The newcomer punched the boy once, causing the boy to go down hard and not get back up.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"I had it covered," snapped Tony.

"I'm sure you did, I was just hurrying things along so you wouldn't be late to class," nodded the boy with an almost too kind smile. "I'm Steve, by the way."

Tony ignored him and stalked off in the direction of his first class of the day, art. Steve followed.

"Leave me alone," growled Tony.

"I'm glad you're so full of yourself that you think I'm following you, but I have art first period," replied Steve with that easy smile of his.

"Whatever."

Tony continued on. Once in the room, he found a spot at the very back at one of the many large black tables. He sank down, looking even smaller than he actually was. The problem was, he wasn't quite fifteen yet but he was in all senior level classes. Being already small for his age, being stuck around seniors made it worse and he knew he wasn't big enough to fight back every time. It was going to be a long year.

"You're in my seat, asshat," said one boy, glaring down at Tony.

"You're friends are over there, Nick," said Steve, setting his things opposite of Tony.

"Always protecting the weak, aren't you Steve?" snarled Nick, who moved on nonetheless.

"I don't need your help," hissed Tony.

"I always sit at the back," shrugged Steve. "You're the one who's new."

"Hello Steve," boomed a boy even larger and more blonde than Steve, almost crashing into the seat next to Steve. "Who is this new young fellow?"

"I don't know, he's just sort of followed me here," laughed Steve.

"He's sort of scrawny," commented the new boy.

"But feisty," said a different boy, this one with sandy hair that was cropped short and more brown than blonde.

"He's also right in front of you," said Tony, grumbling out of habit because, quite frankly, these guys were starting to grow on him with their good nature and easy distance. "And his name is Tony."

"Greetings, Anthony," boomed the largest of the blonde crew.

"It's just Tony," said Tony.

"Thor likes to use full names," said Steve as a way of explaining. "He's a bit dramatic and feels that if he has to be called Thor because his parents are super mythology buffs then everyone else has to suffer with him with their given names."

"You're only okay with it because your name is Steven," snapped Thor.

"The thing is, it's really just Tony," said Tony, lying through his teeth because he hated anyone calling him Anthony; it had too many bad memories.

"Lucky bastard," muttered the other blonde. "I've been trying for years to get Thor to just call me Clint like everyone else but he insists on using my full name."

"How old are you?" asked Steve. "You look kinda young to be a senior."

"I'm 18," lied Tony.

Being young was dangerous, as Tony had discovered. Also, his father had lied about his birth to the media. Wanting an heir had driven him to creating a fictional one, so Tony was actually several years younger than his media age. He almost felt bad about lying to these people, but that feeling passed quickly because, quite frankly, Tony didn't want to get emotionally attached to them.

"You don't look 18," said Clint.

"I'm sure I'll be happy for that in a few years when you're old and wrinkly and I still look young and attractive."

They laughed, sat down, and began their art project, which was supposed to be a drawing of what it looked like inside their mind. As Tony began to work, he sketched out exact lines but the subject kept changing, moving from one thing to another so quickly that it seemed no single idea was ever formed completely. He listened with part of his attention to the others talk and confirmed that they were all seniors and very good friends.

"So how did you piss off Hill?" asked Clint and it took Tony a few seconds to realize that Clint was talking to him about the fight in the hall.

"Existing," replied Tony before he could stop himself.

The others stared at him in surprise.

"That came out way more bitter sounding than I meant it," said Tony, covering with a grin. "He was too stupid to leave me alone."

"I heard you got your ass handed to you," said Clint.

"No, Steven saved his ass before it could be handed to him," replied Thor.

"I had it handled," sulked Tony.

"Don't worry about it," said Clint bracingly, clapping Tony on the shoulder as if they were friends. "Steve looks for any excuse to beat up Hill. Hill used to beat on Steve all the time before Steve finally decided to hit puberty, so now he looks for every reason to repay the favor, don't you Steve?"

"Hill's a bully," said Steve. "I don't like bullies, so I don't like Hill."

"With flawless logic like that, who could argue?" said a new girl drily, appearing at the table as if she had always been there.

"Nat, this is Tony, he's new," said Clint.

"He's young," replied Nat.

"What is it with you guys and talking about me as if I'm not sitting right here?" said Tony, throwing his hands in the air, revealing his oddly artistic mess of a picture. Charcoal smeared across his forehead as he dashed at his shaggy hair.

Natasha looked at Tony, her eyes so piercing they would have hit his soul if he believed in souls, which he did not; he believed in socializing. Still, Tony looked back as calmly as he could. Eventually, it seemed that Natasha was satisfied because she nodded and sat down, picking up a conversation with Clint.

That first class set the tempo for the next month for Tony. He had been quickly taken in by the eccentric group of seniors who didn't pry, had a knack for talking about him as if he wasn't in the room, and were all fiercely protective. Tony would never admit it, but he found he rather liked the feeling of being protected. As more and more people found out he was the son of the famous Howard Stark, Tony found he needed that protection. And his new friends didn't care that he was a billionaires son. They were more interested in the Tony who had a mouth bigger than his ego, was brilliant beyond compare, and was secretly more generous than anyone thought possible.

As that first month wore on, Tony found himself actually enjoying himself for the first time in a long time. He spent most of his time with his friends, having lunch with them, going to their houses, helping them with homework and even spending the night a few times. Despite his best efforts, Tony found himself attached to his new friends, but worked hard to keep that to himself.

"Um, is there a Tony Stark in this class?" called the art teacher on the morning of Tony's 27th day at school (not that he was keeping count).

"He's right here!" yelled Thor while Tony tried to sink into the floor.

Standing at the door next to the teacher was a tall young man in military uniform.

"Well I'll be, I guess you were right," said the teacher, shaking his shaggy grey head. "Stark, you've been summoned."

Tony stood up and walked as calmly as he could to the front of the room, feeling every single set of eyes drilling into his back as he did. Once he was out in the hall with the door shut, he dropped the act and threw himself into the older man's arms.

"Rhodey!" laughed Tony, a real smile breaking across his face. "I thought you didn't come home for another month! You sneaky bastard. It's so good to see you. Oh my goodness, you have got to tell me all about the military. I mean, I already read your files; you've been doing some pretty cool stuff, man. And I think I can make you a better gun than those ones they push on you now. Just let me get my hands on one and I can improve it's accuracy no problem. I-"

"Tony, we need to talk," said Rhodey, his face serious.

Rhodes had known Tony since they were young. They had met at some convention Howard had dragged Tony to and been best friends ever since. Rhodes was one of the few people in the world who knew how old Tony actually was and the young military man looked at Tony as the younger brother he never wanted.

"Are you breaking up with me?" said Tony, trying to laugh through the unease settling in the pit of his stomach. "Because I hate to break it to you, but we aren't a couple. I'm not even sure that'd be legal because you're what, 26? That's like twelve years older than me. Yeah, definitely not legal right now."

"Let's get out of here," said Rhodey, trying to walk down the hall.

"I am in school now, Rhodey, in case you hadn't noticed," said Tony. "I'm pretty sure you can't just up and leave whenever you want. They frown upon that here."

"I can check you out."

"I'm flattered, but I thought you were breaking up with me."

"Tony, there's been an accident," shouted Rhodey. "You're parents are dead."

Tony froze.

Out of all of the things he had expected Rhodey to say, that was not even close to the list. In fact, he wasn't even sure he heard correctly because there was no possible way that Rhodey had just informed him-by shouting in the middle of the hall-that his parents were dead. They were on a business trip. Tony knew they were on a business trip because of the last conversation he had with them had been short, strained, and a good-bye. But it wasn't a forever type of good-bye, it was just a going to be back in two weeks type of good-bye.

"I'm sorry," said Rhodey at a more reasonable level, face falling. "There was an accident."

Tony shook his head, turned away, and walked back into the classroom. Inside, his classmates had already gone back to their own worlds, worlds that were not crashing down around their ears.

"Hey Tony, what was that all about?" asked Clint as Tony gathered his things.

Steve wasn't sure Tony even heard the question. The look on the younger boys face clearly said shock and Steve wasn't one to just let things go.

"Come on, guys," said Steve, quickly packing up his own things and making to follow Tony. "Let's find out what's going on."

The others shrugged followed. The teacher didn't even protest, used to unusual behavior from the back pack of seniors. Each of them were very involved in school activities and often had to leave for this or that occasion. Teachers had long since stopped questioning them and since they were all top students, it didn't really matter if they were in class or not; they somehow always made up the work.

In the hall, they just caught a glimpse of Tony turning a corner with the military man, the man's hand on Tony's back, guiding the boy. The friends ran to catch up.

"Oi," said Steve, taking point as usual. "Where are you taking Tony?"

"Go back to class," said Rhodey, not even turning to look.

"Not until you tell us what's going on," said Thor, blocking Rhodey's path.

"It's okay, Rhodey," said Tony softly. "These are my…friends."

Rhodey gave Tony a searching look. It wasn't that he couldn't imagine the boy having friends-Tony was the type of person people were just attracted to-it was that Tony actively avoided making friends. For all his show of being a loud, obnoxious showoff, Tony was actually very shy and had been burned one too many times to want to make friends. But then again, Rhodey had left him all alone-Tony's parents didn't count as company as far as Rhodey was concerned-so Tony was bound to seek out some form of comfort.

"Not here," said Tony, suddenly. "Can we- can we go to your apartment?"

"No," said Rhodey with a rueful smile. "Sorry buddy, I got rid of my apartment a few months ago when I was shipped out."

"Well I'm not going back there," snapped Tony.

"We can go to my house," said Steve. "It's only a few blocks away."

Rhodey nodded. Tony didn't seem up to arguing any sort of point and just followed along, something that unnerved his new friends as much as it unnerved Rhodey because Tony Stark was a lot of things but quiet was not one of them.

"You think he's finally going to tell us?" Clint whispered to Natasha as they walked outside of the school building and into the busy street.

"I think he's going to tell us something else," said Natasha softly. "But what you're thinking he's going to tell us is something we'll have to bring up. I don't think it can wait anymore."

***To be continued**


	2. Raising Tony

Steve's apartment was small and comfortable. His mother was a nurse and often at work, so Tony had only met her twice, but she was the type of woman that he had always envisioned being a mother. She welcomed him no questions asked, making a small feast and making him feel more at home in the small apartment than he ever had in his mansion of a house. Out of all of his new friends homes, Steve's was his favorite.

Tony sat down on the single barrel chair, knees pulled up to his chest, situated in the corner and looking smaller than ever. Rhodey took a seat on the armchair while Natasha, Clint, and Thor all sat on the couch and Steve went to the kitchen to grab tea. For several long minutes, no one said a word, not until the kettle whistle blew and Steve came back in, offering everyone a mug. Then he took a spot on the ground, leaning against the wall under the window.

"So what's going on?" asked Clint at last, unable to take the tense silence of the room.

Rhodey looked at Tony, who in turn studied his knees as if they were a particularly difficult math problem.

"There's been an accident," said Rhodey slowly and when it became apparent that Tony would not stop him, he continued. "Tony's parents, Howard and Maria Stark, were killed in a crash this morning."

For a moment, only the sounds of the street outside wafted through the apartment.

"I'm so sorry," said Steve at last.

Tony looked at Rhodey suddenly, as if Steve's voice had woken him from the trance, eyes wide and scared.

"What's going to happen to me?" asked Tony, his voice a choked whisper. "I can't- I'm just a- Rhodey?"

Rhodey looked at the others in the room and then back at Tony.

"They don't know, do they?" said Rhodey.

Tony shook his head, shaggy brown hair flopping.

"Tony, the press doesn't know yet," said Rhodey. "The company is set up so Stane will run it until you're ready to take over but Tony, you can't live on your own. You know that."

"He's of age," said Steve. "Technically, he can."

"Tony," said Rhodey, which came out as more of a statement than a question.

Tony looked at the others in the room. He wanted to tell them, he really did, but the idea also scared him to no end because he was sure they would hate him for lying to them. He would hate him for lying to them. But Rhodey couldn't stay forever and Tony, even though he was a genius, was still just a kid and couldn't live alone. Someone needed to know to check up on him.

"I'm not actually 18 quite yet," admitted Tony. "It's not common knowledge and I'd like to keep it that way. But yeah, legally I have to have a guardian and my parents sort of left that up in the air."

"Well how close to 18 are you?" asked Thor. "If you are almost of age, then I'm sure one of us could let you stay with our family for a few months."

"It's more than a few months, isn't it?" said Natasha, and though it was phrased as a question, Tony knew she meant it as a statement. "It's more like a few years."

"I'll be 15 next week," griped Tony.

"That's impossible," said Thor. "You're birth was announced the same year mine was. There are photographs and everything!"

"Lies, all of it," shrugged Tony. "Howard wanted an heir, the pressure was on, so he made on up. He called the fake heir Tony in case when he finally did get an heir it was a girl, then he could claim it was short for either Anthony or Antonia. A few years later, I came along and he hid me from the world until I was old enough to pass for that heir he made up."

"How are you a senior then?"

"I'm a genius," shrugged Tony. "And now I'm an orphan."

He said it so calmly it was as if it were happening to someone else. The true horror of the situation wasn't that his parents were dead, although he was still in shock over that, but that the most likely candidate for his guardian was Stane, his father's business partner, and that man gave Tony the creeps.

"So what happens now?" asked Steve, looking at Rhodey.

"I'm only here until the funeral," admitted Rhodey sadly. "I couldn't convince them to give me more time, sorry buddy. You can stay with me until then, but I don't know what happens after."

"I'll stay with you," said Clint eagerly. "I already practically live at Steve's, so my dad wouldn't notice."

"And when Clint can't be there, I can," said Thor. "My parents give me free reign to come and go as I wish."

"You're always welcome over here any time," said Steve. "I wouldn't tell my mom."

Rhodey didn't even bother to shake his head in wonder, just pleased that Tony had finally found other people who cared about him without wanting something in return. Rhodey could only hope that Tony would let them care, the young boy not being used to positive attention.

"I don't need to be baby sat," said Tony defensively, and Rhodey cringed, knowing his friend was shutting them out already.

"Please," scoffed Clint. "As if I want to babysit you. Have you seen your house? It's huge! I'd get my own room and everything, as if I need another excuse to not be in my own house."

Natasha rubbed Clint's arm soothingly. The dirty blonde had an unpleasant home life at best and downright nasty most days. However, it seemed he had said the right thing, because Tony offered him a small grin and Rhodey relaxed.

"Steve Rogers, what is this I hear about you skipping school?" came the kind but sharp voice of Mrs. Rogers as she unlocked the door.

"Mom," said Steve, rushing to greet her. "Look, I'm really sorry, I didn't think they'd make you leave work. But listen-"

"Steve, you can't just cut school," sighed his mother. "You're a smart boy. And you lot."

Everyone in the room winced as Mrs. Rogers turned her glare on them. She was a kind woman, small, only 5 foot 2 inches, and normally kind, but had a way of mothering everyone she met and making them feel guilty when they did something wrong.

"Ditching school as well. What will your parents think? I'm in half a mind to call each and every one of them right now and tell them to pick you up."

Tony, who had momentarily stopped thinking about his sudden lack of parents, was caught off guard, and with his defenses down, a single tear escaped his eye. Another salty bastard soon followed and more joined the force until an army of traitors charged down his ruddy cheeks and he could no longer hold back a sob.

Instantly, the mood in the room changed. Tony had curled in on himself even more, if that was possible, forming a small ball in the barrel chair, sobs wracking his little frame. His entire demeanor screamed of the need to shut out the world and hide from the pain.

"Come here," said Rhodey softly, moving to sit on the ground, pulling Tony into his lap and rocking him gently.

Normally, Rhodey and Tony had very clear lines about touching. Simply put, they didn't do it. Tony loved being touched, being in a constant state of touch deprivation because his parents, when they were around, ignored him at the best of times. However, while Tony loved being touched, he didn't know how to initiate it properly, so most people assumed he didn't want to have physical contact with them. Rhodey knew he liked being touched but they had an unspoken rule that they kept to their own personal bubbles. They just did.

Tony curled into the older man like the child he was, seeking out comfort and shelter from the storm his life had become.

"Tony's parents were killed in an accident this morning," said Steve softly to his mother.

"No," gasped Mrs. Rogers. "Poor baby. I'm going to put on a pot of coffee. You go take care of Tony, Steve. Is Bucky coming over after classes?"

"Yeah," said Steve absently. "He gets done about four."

"Okay," said Mrs. Rogers. "And who is the young man in the living room?"

"Rhodey," said Steve.

He needed to say no more. Tony had mentioned Rhodey enough that even Mrs. Rogers understood his role in the young man's life.

"I texted Bruce," said Clint to Steve. "He's going to explain the situation to the office before he heads over. He's bringing food."

"Good."

Slowly, Tony quieted, his sobs giving way to hiccups and the hiccups eventually settling into slightly unsteady breaths as he slipped into a slumber only emotional exhaustion could bring.

"You can put him on the couch," said Steve.

"Thanks," said Rhodey, carefully placing the still curled up Tony on the couch.

Tony whimpered at the loss of contact, seeking out another form of comfort unconsciously and finding a blanket. He pulled it to him and burrowed beneath it.

"I have to talk to Stane," said Rhodey after a minute. "I don't want to leave him, though."

"We've got him," said Steve confidently. "Take care of the details and if you need anything, please let us know. We'll take care of Tony, don't worry."

Rhodey nodded, shook hands with everyone, smoothed down Tony's hair on last time, and then left the small apartment, leaving Tony in the care of his new friends.

"How are we going to pull this off?" asked Clint, settling on the ground in front of the couch, leaning back just enough that he could feel the blanket moving, assuring him the Tony was still alive. "I mean, we've gotten away with a lot of shit, but raising a kid?"

"He's not a kid," said Thor, pacing. "He's Tony. He's mature for his age. It's not like raising a kid, it's like having a little brother. Actually, he's the same age as my brother."

"Thor, your brother is in juvi," said Natasha. "Not a good example."

"Tony's going to be a handful," said Clint. "This is going to be fun."

"How are you so confident?" said Steve. "We've agreed to look after a 14 year old and we're only 18."

"You're joking right?" laughed Clint. "You're the only one here with a decent parent. You practically raised me. And Tony has raised himself. The biggest adjustment he's going to have is getting used to people being there for him. If you've done this well with me, it's going to be easy looking out for Tony."

***TBC**

**Still taking requests on couples. I'm open to any and all options. Next chapter we will meet Bruce and Bucky and learn a bit more about Clint. -Shane**


	3. Cooking

The house was no more empty than it usually was. Absently, Tony went into the kitchen and began to cook. He pulled out various items from cabinets, measuring, pouring, and mixing in a daze, almost unaware of what he was doing. He had set his mind on autopilot the day before when Rhodey broke the news. In the wee hours of the morning, he had snuck back to the mansion, away from Steve's welcoming home, because he was hurt and scared and thought that if he was alone in the mansion like usual then it wouldn't seem so lonely.

Once, when he was younger, Howard and Maria had forgotten about their son when they left on a trip. Jarvis, the butler, returned from his week off two days later to find the kitchen a mess and a very hungry Tony on the ground, eating peanut butter out of the jar with his hand. He was five, tiny, and far too young to be left alone. After Jarvis had picked up the kitchen, he began teaching the young boy how to cook, just in case.

Tony had spent most of his childhood with Jarvis as his caretaker as well as butler. The older man seemed to have taken it upon himself to make sure that Tony was fed and looked after, especially when it became more apparent that his parents had no interest in doing the job themselves. For them, Tony was more of an accessory, something to parade around during formal occasions and at functions but the day to day raising of their only son they couldn't be bothered with. Maria just showed no interest in the boy while Howard claimed that Tony was too difficult to handle.

Jarvis had been with his parents during the accident.

Everyone else assumed Tony was heartbroken over the sudden death of his parents but in reality, he was devastated by the loss of his Jarvis.

So he cooked his favorite meal, the one Jarvis used to make them to share when his parents were out of town and Tony allowed to eat in the kitchen with Jarvis without fear of punishment for eating with the help.

Sheppard's pie and soft rolls.

"Looks good," said Natasha, causing Tony to jump and curse.

"What the hell!" yelled Tony, glaring at the red head. "Can't you move like a normal person and not a ninja? How did you even get in here?"

"You left the back window unlocked," shrugged Natasha. "I'm just here to let the others in the normal way."

She proceeded to the back door and unlocked it, letting in Steve, Bruce, Clint, and Thor.

"You left your bag," said Steve, holding out Tony's backpack. "I thought you'd like it back."

No one said a word about Tony running away, they just took up places around the kitchen or, in Steve's case, started helping Tony with the cooking preparations.

"So dibs on the highest room of the tallest tower," said Clint after several minutes of silence.

"Sure, Princess," said Natasha with an easy smile. "I want the ground floor anyway."

"You can't really dibs rooms," said Tony. "I haven't invited you to stay."

"That's alright, I didn't ask."

"I don't understand," said Tony slowly, blinking at the people gathered in his kitchen.

"We aren't asking you to understand," said Steve. "We're telling you we're moving in."

"Won't your parents be upset or say no or something?"

"You forget that we're all of age," said Bruce. "And Clint's already told you that he barely goes to his house. I've just been waiting for a reason to get the hell away from mine."

Clint nodded. For years his father ignored him in favor of his older brother. Then his brother had disappeared and his father blamed himself. Deep down in that place Steve insisted held housed the soul Clint swore he sold of better sight, Clint knew that his father wasn't even aware that he ignored the only son he had left. But after Clint had sold his soul, he quit visiting that place inside him, so it didn't matter why his father ignored him because it didn't change the fact that he was ignored.

"I'm just in a foster home," said Natasha, absently pulling back her hair as she silently cataloged the kitchen-noting everything from the far too polished silver to the small splash of water from where Tony had spilled his drink before the others arrived. "Nice couple but I've been thinking about getting my own place now that I can."

"My mom can barely afford to feed me," said Steve quietly. "I'll still see her all the time, but I can't watch her work herself to death anymore. This will be better for everyone."

Tony wanted to say something to correct them, but as he looked around, he caught sight of Jarvis's still open door. He didn't know much about father's or families, but he knew enough about all Jarvis had done for him that he knew it transcended the normal relationship between butler and employer's son. And Jarvis would be sorely disappointed in him if he turned away those who needed a place to be themselves as much as he needed people to care.

"The potatoes need to be peeled," said Tony.

Bruce picked up an old, wooden handled peeler from the counter. For half a second Tony wanted to yell at him for touching Jarvis's peeler, the one the butler had used since before Tony could remember, because it seemed to wrong to see it in the hands on anyone but the old man, but then Bruce began to carefully peel the first potato around the middle like Jarvis used to do, not end to end like most people did, and it didn't seem too bad.

The front door opening with a bang and a loud voice shattered the illusion of home that had begun to trickle in, making all of the teenagers face the sound.

"Tony, I'm home!"

Had the others been looking at their young friend, they would have need him visibly pale.

***So it's between Clint/Natasha and Steve/Natasha. **

**Also, I dislocated my shoulder. Falling. Because I was having a dance party for one while cooking. That was a fun one to explain to the doctor. -Shane**


	4. Running

Obidiah Stane was not a handsome man and Tony really wished he would shave off the pathetic growth on his chin that he was trying to pass off as facial hair. It was sad really, like a teenager was trying to grow the beard, not a middle aged man. Tony had taken to calling Stane's beard Larry because Stane yelled at him every time Tony referred to the beard as 'the hairs that ran away from the head but didn't get far'.

"Tony, my boy," said Stane, marching into the room as if he owned the place. "So sad about Howard and Maria."

Tony didn't think Stane sounded the least bit sad, but Stane had the type of voice that grated on the ears like a fork dragging across a glass window pane, so Tony blocked out most of what the man sounded like, filtering it down to the words.

"And who are these young people?" demanded Stane, his grin like a wolf.

"Friends from school," said Tony, shrugging. "They came over to say hello and have dinner with me."

Stane nodded thoughtfully.

"I spoke with your friend, Rhodes," said Stane when it became clear that no one else was going to say something. "I hired a planner for the funeral, so that's taken care of. And in the case of something like this happening, your father had me signed on as acting CEO until you graduate from college. I just came by to see how you were holding up."

"I'm fine," said Tony. "You may leave now."

"I think I'll stay here, actually. I don't want you to be alone right now, what with everything going on."

"You really don't have to," said Tony. "My friends are going to stay with me for a while. I'll be fine."

"Tony, let's go talk in the other room for a moment," said Stane calmly, turning and walking out, assuming Tony would follow.

"That man is creepy as hell," said Clint as soon as Tony was clear of the room. "He didn't even look sad!"

"He probably set it up," shrugged Natasha. "Think about it- he had the most to gain by Tony's parents dying."

"Then why not kill Tony while he was at it?" said Clint. "The kid still gets the company when he finishes school."

"Maybe he meant for Tony to be there. Maybe he's waiting to see if he can control Tony."

"He won't be able to," chuckled Bruce. "We've known Tony for how long? A few weeks? And we already know you can't control him. He does what he wants."

"Is your mom really going to be okay with you moving in here?" Clint asked Thor suddenly.

"I won't be moving in," said Thor softly. "My parents would never agree to it."

"My mom hasn't exactly said yes yet either," admitted Steve, scuffing his foot on the ground.

"And you guys promised Tony you'd stay?" hissed Clint, glaring. "What the hell?"

Steve glared right back, but before he could respond, Tony yelled in the other room.

"Fine!" screamed Tony, marching back into the kitchen backwards. "Screw you! Screw fucking you, Stane! You had better believe that when I come back from college I'm firing your ass so fast it'll make Larry fall off your face."

He slammed the door and marched into the open bedroom at the other end of the kitchen.

"Um, Tony?" said Bruce cautiously. "Everything okay?"

Tony didn't respond, just began placing books, ties, and odds and ends into an old suitcase. His hands were steady and gentle, placing everything with care, but his body vibrated with energy. No one said anything, so the front door closing was easily heard. It echoed around the large house like a cathedral bell tolling the hour. Tony was a blur of movement, flying about a the modest room, packing up things that no one would have pegged as his. His fast pace made Steve dizzy but Tony continued to move.

Until suddenly, he stopped.

And stared at a small sheet of paper.

_Tony- There are a hundred different reasons why I love you, but trying to sit down and pin it is impossible. That's not because I cannot think of the reasons and it's not because there aren't the reasons. You see, the dilemma that I face is that words aren't that great when you think about it. Because, while the world was spinning before you came into my life, I guess now it spins in a new way. As if spinning alone were no longer good enough. It's like the world was merely spinning before just to pass the time and I was working while waiting for something-or someone. Now, it spins with a purpose, headed in a direction, but it doesn't matter if it is headed somewhere or nowhere, because now, spinning doesn't seem so endless. It's like every spin is something new. People don't make the world spin. I had worked for families before, each one that made my world different, but somehow, changing how the world spins seems like a much longer lasting thing…..and even though spinning isn't always perfect and sometimes you lose sight, spinning is worth it in the end….but words can't really capture that…._

_My dearest Tony, what I'm trying to say is that every once in a while, you meet someone who isn't at all what you were expecting or even looking for. That person isn't perfect. They are probably impossible at times, they probably baffle you, they drive you up a wall, they make you laugh, and they show you the world in a different way. For me, that person was you. The day Sir and Madam brought you home from the hospital, I never would have imagined that you would become anything more than another person to work for. But you did. You are so much more. You are greater than you believe, smarter than you are aware, and far braver than any of us know._

_I know that you're careful, Tony, and you don't let people in, but I am so proud of how you have put yourself out there and made new friends. Don't shut them out. Thank you for doing your best to make me happy and proud but you fail to realize that I'm already both of those things because of you. I will never betray you, but I know you will not be shocked if I leave. You expect it, because being different means people don't understand and won't stay long enough to learn. But I'm telling you now, Tony, that I will never leave you. Even if I'm not around-I am getting older- I will be there for you. You're becoming a fine young man and I look forward to many more years of watching you grow._

_Happy birthday, Tony._

_Love Always- Jarvis_

"Shit," cursed Tony.

He shoved the note in his pocket along with the small, wrapped box. Then he picked up the suitcase and marched out of the room, through the kitchen, and beyond the back door that seemed to have been unlocked years ago but in reality had been a mere three hours in the past.

"Tony, where are you going?" asked Steve, trotting after Tony with the others close behind.

"Away," said Tony over his shoulder. "Stane gets the house since the Howard ran the business from here. I'm not staying with him."

"Where are you going to go?" asked Bruce.

"I'll get an apartment."

"You're not even 15!"

"You're not the boss of me."

"Yeah, that's really convincing us that you're old enough to get your own apartment," muttered Natasha.

"I don't need any of you," yelled Tony. "I didn't need you before, I don't need you now. I don't need anyone. I can take care of myself. Trust me, I've been doing it for years."

Tony stormed off out of sight.

"Follow him?" said Steve, looking at Clint and Natasha imploringly.

"Of course," said Natasha.

"You want us to bring him back to your place when he calms down enough to realize he has no place to stay?" asked Clint, cracking his neck.

"No, my mom's working the night shift, so I'm staying with Bucky tonight. Just bring him there I guess."

With a short nod, Clint and Natasha were off, disappearing like shadows at night, silent and blending in flawlessly, leaving Steve, Bruce, and Thor to contemplate how much more difficult is was going to be to help Tony if the boy wouldn't stay still long enough for them to let him know that was their intention.

"He's not going to come quietly," said Bruce, shaking his head.

"It's like we're holding on to waves but we cannot stop the time," said Thor. "He's going to keep running away when he gets scared, whenever he feels like we're getting too close."

"Then we'll just keep bringing him back until he knows he can come back on his own," said Steve.

***Another chapter and I have decided on the pairings! Yay! -Shane**


	5. Bucky's Place

Bucky's home was an old house but it was large, three town houses combined to create a mess of halls, rooms, and passages. It was ideal for Bucky's parents, who often took in foster children and anyone who asked. Bucky claimed the entire third floor for himself, which his parents never complained about because like them, Bucky couldn't seem to turn down a friend in need and often had guests over.

"Hey Bucky," yelled Steve when he opened the door.

"In the kitchen," replied Bucky, voice somewhat muffled by walls and the general noise of the house.

Steve, Bruce, and Thor wound their way through the house and eventually landed in the kitchen at the back, which opened into a small shared courtyard. Bucky was just putting the finishing touches onto his mountain of a sandwich when they arrived.

"Hey, where are the ninja twins?" asked Bucky, grinning over his shoulder at his best friend and the others. "Are they planning an ambush?"

"They went after Tony," said Steve, making his way to the sink to wash his hands while Thor helped himself to the fridge.

"How is the brat?" asked Bucky, face turning serious. At first, he couldn't stand the younger boy and didn't get why Steve would tolerate him either but Tony had grown on him. That didn't mean they stopped ribbing each other, but it had turned from hurtful into good natured.

"He ran away," sighed Steve, taking half of the sandwich Bucky offered him and sitting at the table. "He got kicked out of his house."

"What?" yelled Bucky. "How the hell is that even possible?"

"That guy Stane runs the company until Tony graduates college, which includes living in the house," said Bruce, hopping onto the counter and slumping. "Tony refuses to live with the man. Can't say I blame him, the guy gives me the creeps."

"So let me get this straight," said Bucky, glaring at the room in general. "The kid isn't even 15 yet, his parents just died, and some creep has taken over his house?"

"Pretty much," said Thor around a mouthfuls of food. "It's looking grim for young Tony."

"And he ran away?"

Steve nodded.

"And you just let him go?"

"Natasha and Clint went after him," said Steve indignantly. "It's not like I left him stranded. They promised to bring him back when he was tired of running and realized he has no place to go."

"Easy, I didn't mean it like that," said Bucky, patting Steve's shoulder. "I was just trying to get all the facts down."

"So can he stay here for tonight?" asked Bruce.

"He can stay as long as he needs," said Bucky, shrugging easily. "My parents won't care. Actually, they'll be thrilled to have another person to dote on. They're too used to Steve now to want to coddle him too much."

"Thanks, Buck," said Steve.

"Don't mention it."

"But you-"

"I know, his secret is safe with me. No telling what those idiots at DHS will do if they catch wind of his situation."

Several hours later, they were sitting upstairs in Bucky's living room when Clint and Natasha finally arrived with Tony in tow. Clint had Tony's bag slung in hand, his other firmly on the back of the younger boy's neck, steering him to a seat on the floor.

"Just throw his bag in Steve's room," said Bucky dismissively.

"Hey, I sleep there!" said Steve, taking his cue from Bucky and continuing fighting his best friend via game controller.

"You have bunk beds for a reason," said Bucky, never taking his eyes off the screen. "Learn to share, you big baby."

Tony curled in on himself a bit, leaning back against the couch. As much as he appreciated his friends help, the only person he really wanted to be around was Jarvis. Since that wasn't about to happen, he would settle for Rhodey. But again, he knew that request would fall short. And as much as Tony told himself that he didn't need anyone, that he was fine, he knew it was a lie. Because it was the end of the day, he was tired of running, and he knew that he was just not ready to face the world on his own. He just couldn't admit that to them yet because everyone else always left.

"Bucky, sweetheart," said his mother, sticking her head through the door frame that lead to the rest of the house. "Are you and your friends staying for dinner? Oh, who's this young man?"

"That's Tony, mom," said Bucky, tossing his controller to Clint and joining his mother at the door.

Bucky quickly stepped out of the room and shut the door, standing on the landing with his mother, who he towered over. She had the same soft dark hair as her son but her eyes were green like seaweed. She smiled up at her son, love clear in her stance and the way her hand found his arm.

"Mom, Tony is staying with me for a little while," said Bucky. "He's had a rough week and I really don't think he's up to dinner with everyone."

"Okay," said Mrs. Barns easily, used to such behavior. "Just send Steve or Thor down soon and I'll have plates ready for them to bring up. Are all your friends staying tonight?"

"Not sure. They'll at least stay for dinner. Steve's spending the night for sure. Clint probably will."

"Just take care of your friend, Bucky. It's very important that we look after each other, especially those who have no one else to do it for them."

"I know, mom," said Bucky, fondly rolling his eyes at words he had heard over again since the time he was an infant.

With a final hug, Mrs. Barns made her way back down the stairs and Bucky went back into the room.

"Steve kicked Clint's ass," said Natasha when Bucky walked back in. "Although I think Clint let him win just to ruin your stats."

"You little bastard," said Bucky, shoving Clint away and reclaiming his controller.

"Has your mother made a feast?" asked Thor, his voice booming. "Because this mortal form had grown week and demands sustenance!"

Steve and Thor brought food from the kitchen up and they all ate except Tony, who politely refused anything offered to him. Steve looked ready to force food on the boy, but Bucky stopped him, simply setting some on a plate and placing it within reach of Tony should the kid change his mind. He didn't and eventually, Bucky decided to call it a night.

"If you want to stay, you can, but I'm going to bed," said Bucky, yawning. "Tony, Steve can show you your bed. The rest of you know where everything is. Night."

"Night," chorused the others.

Steve dutifully brought Tony to the room he had long ago claimed as his own. It was neat, had a dresser and extra long bunk bed that was queen sized on the bottom and full on the top. Tony's bag was on the floor by the door.

"You can have the bottom bunk," said Steve. "I sleep on the top anyway. Here."

Steve tossed Tony an old pair of sweat pants and shirt to the kid. He couldn't remember if they were his or Bucky's, but they were too small at any rate.

"Didn't see you pack any pajamas," said Steve in explination. "Bathroom is down the hall."

"Thanks," said Tony softly.

Steve went to the bathroom and by the time he returned, Tony was already asleep on the bottom bunk in his borrowed clothes, his own clothes tossed carelessly on the floor.

Shaking his head, Steve silently folded the discarded items and placed them on top of the dresser. Then he tried to pull the comforter out from under Tony to cover the boy up, but the pitiful whimper he emitted when he was jostled had the larger boy stilling his movements. Instead, he pulled his own blanket off the top bunk and draped it over the boy.

"Sleep well, Tony," said Steve, smoothing back the messy brown hair like his own mother would.

He climbed into his own bed and settled back, hoping against hope that his young roommate would remain asleep. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then a low scream carved through the air.


	6. Sleeping Not in Beds

The music was loud but it was overpowered by the pounding in his ear. The music was supposed to be low and classy like the black tie event it was surrounding. Tony hated the events. He hated all of the fake smiles, too firm handshakes, and judging looks he received. Everyone was older than him by at least a decade and like Howard, they didn't appreciate his sense of humor.

When he ducked away from the crowd and wandered down one of the many halls of the event center, Tony was blissfully unaware that he was being followed, the music and noise still reverberating through his mind. His steps were easy, calming, muffled by the tainted maroon carpet. He liked the color maroon almost as much as he enjoyed saying the word. Maroon. A color and a verb. Marooned in a maroon hallway. Tony chuckled softly to himself.

"What's so funny?" came a deep voice as Tony was shoved against the wall.

An arm the size of a small tree trunk wrapped around his throat, cutting off his air supply and voice in one fell swoop. Thick fingers tugged at Tony's suit, untucking his shirt, yanking at his belt, and that more than anything woke Tony from his surprised stupor induced by a voice he recognized. With fear induced rage, Tony struck out, kicking, shoving, and biting anything within reach, trying to get away from hands that groped him. His fathers voice echoed in his head, snide remarks making their way to the forefront because he knew his father wouldn't care. He wouldn't encourage such treatment of his son, but he wouldn't care that it had happened either.

"Tony! Tony, wake up!"

With a strangled shout, Tony woke, jerking out of his dream. He flailed uselessly but there was no one attacking him. The strong arms around him weren't restraining him, they were holding him.

"You're okay," said Steve softly, pulling Tony more firmly against his chest like his mother used to do when he felt the fight go out of the kid. "It was a dream. You're safe. You're at Bucky's and you're safe. Just breathe, that's it."

"Shit," said Tony, shuddering in the aftermath of the dream.

For a moment longer, Tony leaned into Steve's warmth, taking much needed but so long denied comfort in the older boy's soothing words and protective arms. Then he gathered his frayed emotions and shoved away.

"I'm okay," said Tony.

Steve nodded and climbed back into his own bed, knowing better than to try and talk it out with the kid. Tony was a bit like Bucky in that respect; both boys would remain vainly independent until the end and somehow it was worse with Tony. Bucky at least had always had someone to fall back on, something told Steve that Tony hadn't had that before.

Down on his borrowed bed, Tony pulled the blanket more firmly around his shoulders. He listened as Steve's breathing evened back out, taking in the sounds of the house around him. Everything had that muffled quality of nighttime but Tony could still tell that other people were in the house. It was a strange concept for him. He lived in a house easily twice the size of Bucky's but it was always empty of people. He had been taken from his own room seven different times. Each resulted in a short stay, a ransom note, and then a paid in full reward. It quit scaring Tony after the third time but he still found it difficult to sleep in a bed.

With a shake of his head, Tony got up and silently left the room. He hadn't slept in a bed since his time in a cave. Every time he tried, the nightmares came back with a vengeance.

The living room was dark. Tony dragged the blanket along with him and curled up on the floor, arms cushioning his head. The floor was lightly cushioned, much better than the too soft bed, and the light from the radio under the television was a comfort, even if the clock was broken. Eventually, he fell back asleep, this time the nightmares staying away.

A few hours later, Bucky and Steve stepped out of their rooms, dressed to work out. It had become routine for them to meet up and work out every morning. Neither were surprised to find Tony curled up on the floor fast asleep. What did surprise them was finding Natasha asleep on the couch and Clint sitting on the armrest, keeping watch.

"He okay?" whispered Steve.

"Tasha heard him about two hours ago," replied Clint. "Nightmare. She calmed him down without waking him up. I stayed up to keep make sure it didn't happen again."

"Kid's a basket case," said Bucky, shaking his head. "He won't appreciate us hovering."

Steve motioned them all over to the hall.

"Nightmares? Really?" said Bucky once they were out of earshot.

"The funeral is today, what did you expect?" snapped Steve. "Of course he's going to have nightmares."

"Did you know he sleeps better on the floor?" asked Clint.

"So?" said Bucky. "You sleep better in a hammock. You're not really one to judge."

"Don't you think it's weird? Rich kid, huge mansion, probably worlds most comfortable bed, and he sleeps better on the ground. Or anywhere that's not a bed. That's not natural."

Bucky sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He would never admit it but he really liked Tony. He saw a lot of himself in the kid and today he would have to bury his family. Not even fifteen and orphaned, homeless, and alone in the world save for a misfit group of seniors he didn't fully trust. It was a wonder the kid spoke at all.

"Hey," said Steve, tapping his friends forehead. "Look, we're doing the best we can. He's going to be okay."

"I'm just worried he'll mess up my date tonight," said Bucky, which was as close to agreement as Steve knew he would get.

"Didn't mean to be a burden," said Tony, shoving through the door and running down the stairs.

"Asshole," said Natasha, slapping Bucky outside the head.


End file.
